While You Were Sleeping
by jackal1973
Summary: Some jobs just aren't worth the risk and neither are the dreams that accompany them.
1. Chapter 1

The air was stagnant, still, rife with the rancid smell of old beer, even staler cigarette smoke, and, she bit back uncertainly …_blood_?

The odor was a little musty, most likely not fresh, at least, she hoped, but the faint metallic scent tinged everything like the stench had been indelibly written across every surface of the bar never to be completely wiped away or erased from memory. It would only make sense, Sookie distastefully figured as she carefully made her way toward the club's slick bar top, considering that this was a vampire owned watering hole, a fanged haven replete with garish coloring, blasé decorations, and an obsequious sign that declared 'no biting on premises.' Uh huh, yeah, like that little admonition was really necessary for patrons of whatever gender, breed, or dental pedigree to realize that they weren't exactly on the tea cup ride at a family themed amusement park but rather, they'd been dropped head first into a campy but decidedly gory thriller.

Warily, she eyed her nearly empty surroundings, the barren black lacquered chairs were lined up around battered tables like a mindless battalion of support flanking all sides, and tried to decide which was more pitiful, the downright tacky and altogether too stereotypical pandering of the establishment's décor to a pathetic subculture or her near frantic need to be here in the first place.

Somehow, she figured that it was literally a toss-up.

Swallowing her pride, she ignored her initial misgivings, plastered on her most genial smile, and amiably reached out her hand as she sweetly greeted, "Hello, I'm Sookie Stackhouse. Is the waitress position still available?"

Vacantly, the overly processed blonde behind the counter looked past her like the woman wasn't even aware of where the words had possibly come from never mind that Sookie was the only other human in the place. Somehow, recognition seemed to be overly taxing to the scrawny, woefully underdressed female but it wasn't a hardship for the highly observant telepath, quite the contrary. Although, she'd have had to be blind to overlook the serpentine game of connect the dots she could have played with all the bite marks the faux blonde displayed without even a lick of shame like they were tooth shaped trophies proclaiming a coveted desirability rather than scarred constellations mapping out her pitiable misery.

When the other woman continued to look dumbfounded, Sookie gently prodded, "Umm, has the position already been filled?"

"Oh, right," the absentminded blonde instantly replied dropping the raw drink ingredients she'd awkwardly clasped within her wiry arms on the counter behind the bar. An orange went rolling as a ditzy smile accompanied the woman's quick exclamation, "Let me just get an application from the back."

Her external words were swiftly followed by an intrinsic thought; _Pam will kill me if I let another person leave without filling out her paperwork_.

Reluctantly, Sookie watched the slender woman scurry off like a roach hit by light and wondered if the bar's daytime worker was being flippant in the proverbial, joking sense, or being literal in the, she'd be dead as a door nail come night fall kind of way.

Normally, Sookie wouldn't pry. She wouldn't use her disability, whether readily apparent or not, to intrude upon another person's thoughts if she could help it but, the telepath squelched down a little surge of guilt, this wasn't a time to be altruistic and rest on her superior laurels thinking that she was too good a Christian to be so sneaky and underhanded. No, sir, this was an instance where Sookie truly felt that she really needed assurance that she would be relatively safe if she were to work at the most notorious vampire bar in northern Louisiana.

She'd caught a few notions of what transpired at this place from a coworker at Merlotte's, the family type bar and grill that she'd worked at for the past few years, but she assumed that as long as she avoided an invitation to the infamous basement she'd be just fine. Seriously, she'd almost choked on nothing but air when she'd caught Dawn's previous memory of being down in the hard, concrete confines of debauchery. Blindfolds, chains, and pleasure running the rough edge of pain just weren't her thing, although, if the barmaid was being completely honest, she couldn't really say what soothed her intimate itches because she'd yet to experience anything carnal with the opposite sex. Period.

Still, there was an undercurrent of sex that rippled through most bars between the amassed congregation of people seeking something- anonymity, oblivion, or an instant elixir to crushing loneliness- between sips of the ever present flow of alcohol so that wasn't a shocker. The _type_ of sexual fulfillment that would pervade an establishment for vampires and their groupies, well, that might be a whole other bag of eye popping tricks; the nasty, dirty, and rotten kind.

So, really, Sookie justified her choice by rationally claiming that she needed to peek into the other woman's mind to get some assurance that taking a second job here temporarily wouldn't be hazardous to her overall life expectancy or her nearly dead libido. She didn't want to earn the extra money needed to finish paying off Gran's modest tombstone if she was only going to end up in a shallow grave of her own.

"You don't need to worry, they're really very nice here," the dimwitted blonde from earlier commented, breaking into Sookie's reverie with her return, and giving her sudden pause. Had the barmaid somehow come across someone else who enjoyed her special brand of gift?

No, the telepath quickly realized as the older woman easily slipped a mundane looking piece of paper onto the counter in front of her just before pulling a well-used pencil nub from behind the ear hidden under her brassy colored hair. The only thing this woman was shielding was her lack of self-esteem and, even at that, the older woman was doing a shabby job.

"You just fill this out," the bar worker warmly stated with a sincere camaraderie that shamed Sookie for her previous unkind thoughts, "and I'll do the rest."

Sookie wasn't sure what the rest would entail, exactly, but the sheet seemed rather normal and straightforward. Forming the wrote characters of her name and address was rather dull, almost tediously familiar, and put her nerves at ease, as her worn pencil swirled in time with the other woman's slicing motions against the cutting board. The clean, fresh, homey smell of orange, lemon, and lime filtered over her like a soothing balm, reminding her of her beloved Gran, as she worked her way down the ordinary questions making her forget the dark nature of those that normally frequented this place.

A sloshing sound interrupted Sookie just as she finished the last number of her social security identification and, automatically, her pencil rose along with her curious eyes to the full stemware that had been unceremoniously placed in front of her. Hopefully, the other blonde asked with near giddy anticipation, "Could you try this for me?"

"Umm," Sookie warily started, "what is it?"

"Oh," the other female seemed to happily come alive at her question, "it's this yummy drink I tried one time at this Spanish restaurant called sangria."

"The drink," the blonde woman, Ginger, added with a little shoeing laugh, "not the restaurant."

What the other waitress hadn't included was that Ginger had imbibed it while on a date with a man she'd thought was the marrying kind, and, unfortunately, the gentleman was but he'd previously tied that knot with another female. Suddenly, it was a little easier to understand why this woman might just prefer the honest company of vampires who she knew did, in fact, value her if for nothing other than her blood.

"Looks good, what's in it," Sookie asked with just enough interest to please the older woman but she already knew that it would contain rum along with the unknown brand of red wine standing empty on the bar's work surface.

"The recipe says to chill it well first, whatever that means," the platinum blonde shrugged her bony shoulders, "but I didn't want to waste time if it didn't taste good and Longshadow doesn't trust my taste buds, even though I'm human, because I smoke."

As expected, the other woman didn't really provide an answer to the question asked but Sookie didn't need the information, not with her unique talent anyways. She'd already heard what was in the concoction placed before her and, now, knew that Longshadow was the bartender here, a vampire, and this woman's occasional lover. She hadn't needed to spend much time in the blonde's mind to know that it was all purely consensual and that Ginger was merely trying to impress him with something besides her bloody pincushion of a body.

She didn't really want to drink the beverage and then drive but one sip wouldn't hurt, it certainly wouldn't impair her senses or hinder her judgment on the road back to Bon Temps. Without any outward reluctance, Sookie pulled the glass toward her with the intention of pacifying the other woman.

The layered pieces of citrus were pretty streamers of bright color floating in the deep red sea of her glass. Waves of the pungent aroma tickled her nose as the spicy liquid lapped against her parted lips, crashing into her system, and nearly drowning her in the overwhelming taste.

Sookie had heard that sangria had the tendency to be slightly bitter if not sweetened properly but that clearly wasn't the case with this batch. No, ma'am, this was pure molten sugar, flavored with a sensual liquor that shot fire through her veins as she swallowed. The heated fluid burned all the way to female parts that had never been affected by alcohol previously and made her smolder with unprecedented want.

Damn, Sookie blushed furiously in response to her body's sudden arousal, glad that she hadn't taken a larger sip and gulped down the urge to consume more. Suddenly, she wondered if this was actually that stuff called Spanish fly that her classmates had all whispered and tittered about back in high school.

Whether it was or not, Sookie couldn't in good conscience let the other woman offer shots of sexual encouragement to unsuspecting patrons that she suspected were already well past a level of wantonness that was good for their health.

Uncomfortable, nearly squirming in her seat to relieve the erotic pulsing that grew in a southern region that needed the comfort of release, Sookie coughed out, "Ah, Ginger, I think there's something wrong with this. Are you sure you followed the recipe properly?"

"Well, shucks," the blonde replied with a careless shrug as she hastily poured the remainder of the pitcher down the stainless steel sink, "I'll just have to start again while you finish your application."

Desperately, Sookie turned back to the abandoned paperwork in front of her trying to focus on anything but the pounding want that coursed through her and tapped into feminine places of wet, tight need that she hadn't thought existed just five minutes prior. Anxiously, she readjusted her body, hoping that the tiny friction of the barstool would temporarily solve her problem as she prepared to read the next question on the form.

Unwanted, a tendril of yearning whispered along her spine like a lover's caress as she finally deciphered what the check boxes containing a few odd letters and a positive or negative sign could possibly mean. Shocked, she dropped the unfinished paper like a white flag of surrender and promptly retreated from the bar.

Sookie wasn't a coward, far from it, but there was no good reason that a job application should require disclosing her blood type even if it was something that the telepath had known out of hand anyway. With a surety that kissed her nether lips with each purposeful step she took away from the seedy bar, Sookie knew that Fangtasia should never be the workplace she called home.

.oOo.

Instantly, Eric awoke to the long forgotten feel of sunshine radiantly beaming through his undead form, casting shadows of flaming desire against the dark corners of his heart and burning a relentless craving that hardened more than his eternal soul.

Regardless of the unexpected intrusion upon his daytime slumber, he immediately pushed opened the sleek travel coffin he'd chosen to rest in rather than leaving his office the previous evening when dawn approached faster than his Sheriff's duties had been sufficiently completed.

Her sweet scent assailed him, cut him down into nothing but demanding need like the deadly blow of an assassin's blade before he could protect himself from the intoxicating bloodlust her decadent aroma caused. The hungry beast inside basked, luxuriated, reveled in the honeyed fragrance that wafted over him like a dangerous embrace pushing him to the edge of his restraint when he felt her matching arousal.

Lowly, he growled with rabid anticipation of tearing into the tasty treat being dangled in front of his proverbial nose when he finally saw her through the security monitors. The shapely blonde looked like a scrumptious vanilla cupcake with droplets of blood covering the glaze of her Southern belle dress, her soft curls a decorative layer of frosting that framed the fresh beauty of her face. She was luscious, tempting, a human confection of all that baited a vampire's primal senses.

Suddenly, her aroma became slightly thicker, earthier, a tad bitter, as he felt a sliver of fear slip along the bond of her sexual awakening. All too soon, the departure of her flirty red heels snapped him to attention like the masterful flick of a matador's cape, daring him to follow, challenging him to dominate the lesser creature, to charge forward and simply take what now belonged to him.

No doubt, he would.

Ravenously, Eric paced the confines of his office, impatiently watching the seconds of the girl's freedom tick by until night fell and he could greedily answer the wild call of his blood.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to either put this story on alert or, especially, review. It makes me smile to see your reactions. As always, thanks for reading.**_

Each teasing stroke of emotion and every little tingle of awareness only served to heighten his rabid anticipation. A myriad assortment of feelings- desire, want, hunger, need- had marched through him like conquering soldiers, phantoms of the sword of her passionate sensation, set on an unyielding course, the domination of the Viking's cherished discipline and the erosion of his solitary willpower.

Yet, each of those powerful, primal urges had been unwittingly tempered by the softer side of sentiment that had snuck in without warning as he awaited nightfall, a silent, cunning assassin that trapped him, ambushed him with the absolute need to know more about their fragile originator. About _her_.

He wasn't pleased. And, yet…

"Ginger, dear," Eric passively intoned for the nearly useless female's benefit because he didn't want to spook his waitress with the tangled, morass of ferocious need that boiled hotly below his surface calm, "what happened to the wine bottle that was on my desk?"

His employee looked blankly around his office, past the desk in question scattered with a rainbow of invoices, flyers, and mundanely standard business correspondence. Her muddled eyes seemingly looking for the elusive pot containing the elixir of his golden existence that would never materialize from its hard working surface before droning out a paltry explanation, "Long Shadow told me to mix the Sangria for tonight, Master," she scampered to reply even in her dazed state. "So I thought I was supposed to use it, since it was sitting right out there but Sookie didn't think it turned out right."

Closing his eyes in mounting frustration at the casual mention of his tormentor's unusual name, Eric focused on the utter stupidity of his overly glamoured server who'd used the emergency cask of his own blood for the alcoholic beverage instead of the packaged mix they purchased specifically for this cocktail. Pointedly, the bar owner purposefully looked at the metal shelf across from his desk and coldly instructed, "That bottle there, the one with the label clearly attached to it that reads Monin Red Sangria Flavor Syrup, _that_ is what Long Shadow meant."

"Oh, Master, I'm so sorry," the blonde nearly tripped over her own words in a rush to apologize for her idiotic blunder. "It won't happen again."

"Indeed," was the only absolution he cared to extend toward the vacuous minion that he and his underling vampires had created. How could he justly punish the loyal little blood bag when her lack of intelligent thought was, in part, due to her long standing association with his kind.

Soon, he and Pam would have to come to a final resolution about Ginger's mortal plight but, until then, the Sheriff was relieved that the fang smitten waitress hadn't taken a testing sip of her own concoction as well or else he have been forced to drain her dry as the Sahara before opening. There was no way the Viking would have been able to tolerate, withstand, or endure the inane torture, the blatant tedium, of Ginger's shallow thoughts and inconsequential feelings for any amount of time.

Internally, he shuddered at the disturbing thought of being connected to such a squalid example of feminine humanity when, unbidden; thoughts of Miss Stackhouse firmly planted themselves in the fertile planes of his mind. That flower of Southern womanhood bloomed with innocently lush petals just waiting to be plucked. She was a shiny, warm, searing kaleidoscope of the better mortal emotions. The feel of her urges was utterly titillating and wholly distracting after keeping his solitary counsel for so long so she might just make a captivating pet for a while.

His lengthier interest in her was unexpected, surprising, even revitalizing and, yet, Eric wasn't entirely sure that he liked this new development regardless of the long forgotten heat of the sun that poured into him, beat down upon him, and made him burn with more than just the blistering superiority of his vampire senses. No, he wasn't at all certain about this change when his own blood suddenly stepped in tune with her pulsing life in a secret tango that entwined them together in the most intimate of dances.

Curtly, Eric hurriedly dismissed Ginger with the cold slice of his steely gaze toward the door, the waitresses' error already pardoned by his outright need for her hasty departure as the strings of another woman's desire strummed through him like a siren's needy call. Automatically, his body answered as the temptresses' dreamy tempo increased, waltzed through his hard frame, sensually pulled him under with an erotic grace long forgotten by his undead flesh as he helplessly surrendered to the need spiraling out of control in the untried depths of his innocent partner.

.oOo.

A mist of steam blanketed her naked limbs in moist protection, sheltered her slender form, and shielded her from the cold reality that lay just outside the cocoon of desire that wetly wrapped around her. Liquid warmth spread over her, slipped untamed down her womanly curves like the slow, torturous rasp of a lover's greedy tongue and made her involuntarily sigh.

Humid want caressed her flesh, lapped at the silken covering of her quivering form giving voice to the unspoken need that nearly screamed from every wanton particle of her over stimulated being. Desperately, she knew that her flesh needed something, anything, even the strange touch of the faceless man that knowingly slid into the shower behind her.

Hard muscle and coiled sinew encased her in cold relief as his low tone whispered a soothing promise along her overly sensitive ear, ""Shhh, lover, I am here."

Yes, yes, he was. All of him.

Thick.

Solid.

And, so very ready.

Frantically, she crushed the smoldering arcs of her feminine backside shamelessly against him- searching, seeking, and yearning- for whatever would assuage the foreign hunger that gorged on her natural inhibitions, leaving her famished as his powerful digits bit into her womanly form. Her pebbled nipple glistened like a luscious cherry atop the scoop of her pale breast cradled in the masterful bowl of his hand and she longed for him to devour the sweet banquet she so willingly laid bare for him.

Slowly, teasingly, her unknown admirer trailed long, tapered fingers down the slick warmth of her skin to expertly spoon the fire of her mound, melting one chilled length into the molten heat bubbling inside her. The sinuous movement of his fingers sent flames of yearning licking at the bud of her passion with each sure, strong, sweep over her fevered womanhood.

She was lost, drowning in the blazing waves of carnal bliss that crashed over her from the merciless talents of her nameless lover. His sharp points of pleasure dragged along the slender column of her neck, relentlessly pulled her under toward the oblivion of ecstasy found beneath his white pillars of immortal delight.

Immediately, she was tense, anxious, and restless for the savage release she'd never experienced before and equally frightened of this new intimacy all at the same time.

"Easy, Sookie," he soothed before her novice unease made her shrink away from his heavenly proximity and his even more divine touch. Gravelly, his deep tenor rolled over the rough edges of her misgivings, grinding down her minimal resistance with his smooth oath, "I always take care of what is mine."

The hard length of his fangs pushed against her tender flesh, drawing little pricks of blood as they slowly breached the surface of her skin, sinking into the raging inferno pumping furiously through her veins, and tearing away her innocence in one languid swallow.

His guttural moan echoed through the tight enclosure, rippled over her body with the aftershocks of their mutual gratification as he harshly swore, "This is only the beginning."

Rapture whipped through her with unbridled pleasure as the rugged terrain of her lover's body demanded total submission as he expertly guided them on their carnal journey to a ultimate satisfaction only whispered about in the most sinful of dreams.

.oOo.

Cold rivulets washed away the remnants of her spent desire; the watery tendrils swept away the dream induced euphoria with a thorough finesse that reminded her of the nameless stranger's all too adept fingers. Somehow her body was still tired even after her unusual nap, her legs were heavy; loathe to move from her splayed position in the tub much like a lazy coon dog laying under the awning of a shady porch on a sweltering afternoon.

If the chattering of her teeth weren't vibrating against her jaw like a relentless jackhammer, Sookie would have felt guilty about falling into a trancelike sleep while lying down in the shower to bask in it like it was a warm summer rain gently kissing her naked skin with chaste little pecks. She'd probably have felt even more shame in the way her body had obviously taken her rampant desire into hand as well but, since the barmaid was about to grind a hole in her own bones because she was freezing, Sookie quickly turned off the taps instead and rapidly got down to business.

The soft loops of her sumptuous cotton towel seemed more like course sandpaper against her overly tender skin but the barmaid ignored the not so minor discomfort as she hurriedly dried her chilled body. She was almost desperate in her need to cloth herself, to cover over the visceral memories left on her frame with the haze of normality that getting dressed would bring.

Nervously, Sookie rushed through combing out the lumpy snarls in her hair that seemed more apt to have come from her lover's seeking hands than from her self-induced passion. Ruthlessly, she tugged on one particularly difficult knot while a blush guiltily skipped along her features in the mirror even though the telepath knew that none of her recent indiscretions had actually been a tangible recollection. They'd all just been a wildly fantastic dream.

Yet, even with her subconscious at fault for her wistful notions, what the hell had she been thinking?

Or, not been pondering, as the case may be like Sookie really needed some unknown vampire to star upfront and very lengthily center in her personal fantasies no matter how scandalously wicked his body might have been and she didn't mean in a sadistic, evil way either. She'd meant in the breathless, panting, and, oh so, delicious manner that set her blood to racing again.

_Damn._

The barmaid didn't need this type of distraction after being abruptly confronted with the more basic instincts of the fanged set as it was laid out in black and white formality on her job application earlier that day. Desperately, Sookie just wanted to forget all about her foolish trip to Fangtasia and the necessity that had driven her to apply their in the first place, however, she'd never been that lucky.

Walking toward her closet, Sookie surreptitiously snuck a glance over her shoulder just in time to see the brilliant glowing orb sink below the tree lined horizon of her woods, its final rays waving a dark farewell with the shadows cast by its retreating form. She wasn't ready to say goodbye to its fiery warmth as it died for the day but, in this like so many other things, Sookie had little choice.

Ruefully, thoughts of her beloved Gran came to mind as she hastily slipped one of her notoriously simple dresses over her head not wanting to bother with anything more constricting for her habitual visit knowing that she'd undoubtedly wind up sitting criss-cross applesauce at her grandmother's recently buried knee. Unfortunately, she was already too used to plunking herself down in the soft grass and clover that covered her Gran's unmarked resting place like a string of emeralds that the earth had selflessly offered up as a natural sign of respect toward her departed kin knowing that the dignified woman had deserved so much more than Sookie's meager budget would ever afford.

Resolutely, the barmaid put aside the gloomier aspects of her troubles, wending her way out of the house and toward the old cemetery that bordered her property knowing that somehow, someway, just spilling another day's worth of her rudimentary secrets to the woman who'd raised her would make it all better because, really, how much worse could her life possibly get?

.oOo.

It felt like crimson need dripped from his distended fangs, the ghost of her exquisite taste floated across his tongue making him doubt the very senses the Viking had spent the last millennium relying upon.

Slowly, Eric came out of the paralyzing stupor of desire that the sunny little temptress had tightly woven around him with her radiant, slumbering need. His fists clenched angrily at his sides, the feel of his empty palms suddenly alien to him as they already missed the sweet morsels of flesh they'd held as he'd greedily pounded into a flawless womanly perfection that even his most revered Gods couldn't have fashioned.

Sookie was hallowed ground, the majestic embodiment of something even greater than his fabled Valhalla, but she couldn't possibly be real for no mere human could ever become so sacred to him.

It all had to be a lie, an illusion of the blood connection they'd unwittingly formed.

Either way, it mattered little to Eric now.

The gamut of emotions that he'd mercilessly ridden this afternoon, no matter how inconceivably pleasurable, weren't something he was willing to endure for much longer. Originally, he'd thought her the better choice when Ginger was the other option and entertained fleeting thoughts of keeping her but Sookie's passions had taken control of his mind and body like a necromancer's damning spell. She would weaken him, put an irreparable crack in his indomitable façade and that was something the formidable Sheriff could never allow. What if one of his underlings had witnessed him coming to the most stupendous completion of his undead life from only the caress of the erotic images that she'd so easily forced upon him?

Fiercely, the Viking measured the last few remaining seconds until sundown by the futile beat of her heart pulsing through him. Her fragile existence annoyed him as her life source willfully traipsed through him like it had found the lonely court of a vampire soul that she could effortlessly reign over.

Not for long, Eric bitterly condemned his traitorous blood, for it currently fraternized with the enemy of his self-control and he would ruthlessly squelch its rebellion just like all of his other contemptible adversaries that no longer walked this earth.

Darkness came upon him as daylight surrendered its key to his bondage and sentenced his little bottle of sunshine to her death.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Sorry for the long delay. For a while it was the usual real world stuff that got in the way and, then, I made the mistake of watching Askars in Straw Dogs. He was hot, for sure, but, well, that Charlie character totally mindfucked me for a bit. It was hard to get into the proper Eric and Sookie mindset when I still heard audio from the movie torturously running through my head. Not sure I'm really there yet but I had the yen to update this fic so it's a start. Oh, and thanks to a much invested reader who persistently messaged about updates to my True Blood tales, it was appreciated._

She felt hunted.

Relentlessly, she was chased by the luminescent eye that unerringly followed her wherever she trod tonight. The hungry caress flowed over every peak and valley of her form as if what tracked Sookie was going to consume her whole; the captivating force truly something inescapable. Surely, this was what her Gran would have called a Hunter's moon; perfect for the deadliest predators to stalk their unsuspecting prey under the nocturnal glow that blanketed the darkness like the false security of a child's flickering nightlight.

Logically, Sookie knew that this moon wasn't any fuller, rounder, or brighter than other ripe lunar orb's that ruled so majestically over the evening sky but, somehow, the autumnal curves always seemed tinged with a regal crimson rim that made it appear larger, like a shining crown that illuminated the nighttime's splendid glory. And, during the bountiful harvest of the fall hunt, the reigning sun dutifully submitted to the dark sovereign's call, gracefully bowed to its moonlit superiority seamlessly without the loss of enlightenment that earthly subjects travelled by.

It was purely a fanciful notion on her part. Foolish even, but, nonetheless, both the childhood belief and the luminescent shafts of light washed over her like a comforting hand- soothed, calmed, guided- her to the resting place of the woman that had bathed her in maternal love her whole life. Her Gran.

Gingerly, her sandal clad feet tiptoed around the rougher gravel of the well-trod path to her grandmother's graveside. She stuck to the drier, flat stretches instead of the parts with moister dirt and undergrowth to escape the jagged teeth of hidden rocks that would hungrily gorge on the tender soles of her feet if she wasn't careful. Her foundational pediments should have been hardened by all the hours she spent working upright, delivering a gluttonous amount of cheap Southern comforts, but, instead, her dainty extremities were merely tired and sore, not resilient.

Just like her other soul.

Anguish, sharp and torturous, cut clean through her as Sookie slowly came upon the clearing that was the earthly home of her deceased kin. Their tombstones were all lined up like a chain of dominoes that linked continuously for generations, from the first Stackhouse settler to her rake of an older brother, just waiting for her to fill the obvious gap in their dwindling line of posterity.

With watery eyes, she respectfully placed a sweet gay of handpicked wildflowers upon her grandmother's unadorned plot and whispered, "I miss you, Gran."

A soft rustling void in the woods seemed to cause a crisp but gentle breeze to lightly reach out and caress her cheek in silent answer to her heartbroken claim just like her beloved grandmother would have and, for a wistful moment, Sookie brokenly smiled toward the source before turning back toward the absent marker for her confession.

"I'm so sorry, Gran," she lovingly patted the thick carpet of verdant grass and bunches of clover that mounded over her matriarch's bed of dirt like a living quilt, stitched together one blade and petal of green at a time, just like her memories of the generous woman beneath it.

"I'm trying real hard to put the money together for your plaque," she dutifully promised, "but you know the water heater went last week and my old car blew a tire yesterday. Hoyt tried to plug it for me," she casually mentioned the kindness of her deceased brother's best friend, a nice Southern boy who felt responsible for looking after her now that her male kin had all passed, "but it didn't work and you know how his Mama carries on and such."

An owl seemed to hoot along in a mixture of merriment and disdain with her admission and Sookie automatically replied, "Yeah," with a roll of her eyes as if her Gran had actually responded. "Mrs. Fortenberry would have been sending out invitations to our fictitious wedding if I'd let Hoyt take a second crack at the balding thing. I couldn't let that happen," she regretfully added, "but I promise, I'll find a way to earn the money even if it means going back to that vampire bar I told you about tomorrow. I was probably just letting my imagination get the better of me anyway, you always said that they deserved far better than the paltry rights they'd been given so it can't be that bad if …" her words trailed off quickly as she suddenly felt an unhappy presence bearing down on her.

.oOo.

His blood called to him like a beacon in the night; pulsing, pounding, pulling Eric ever closer to the radiant light of his prey with each passing second. Wave after wave of greedy anticipation crashed over him, flooded his body with palpating eagerness, the heady expectation of sinking his hardened fangs into her warm, pliant, flesh and draining every last drop of shimmering ecstasy from her heavenly curves was nearly overwhelming. The thought was almost as invigorating as the promise of liberty from the cloying intimacy of her myriad feelings once more.

Her emotions had toyed with him all day like he was nothing but an insignificant plaything to be spun up by her all-consuming desire, brought low by her desolation, or simply be cast aside and abandoned to her whim and fancy as the spirited blonde moved throughout the tattered remnants of her mundane human existence.

It was simply an untenable situation; one that wouldn't plague him for much longer.

The dusky night seemed somehow insulted by the dilapidated squalor of the aged farmhouse below him that defiantly emerged from the pristine beauty of the clearing that surrounded it; shutters askew, paint worn and blistered from too many neglected days in the scorching Southern light. The only redeeming charm to the place was the aroma of perfume de Sookie that desperately clung to every clapboard and shingle with unerring tenacity as if it could somehow become a fragrant ornamentation broadening the rustic appeal of the place all while the unseen barrier of magic protected her lush womanly petals from him.

Fortunately for Eric; the distracting little temptation wasn't ensconced within those run down walls but, rather, was succulently displayed like a wanton target all alone just past this last stretch of woods.

Perfect.

Power surged through him as he landed with ease; his elemental dominance pumped incessantly within his immortal existence rapidly keeping pace with the thumping of her all too fallible heart. Each tantalizing pulse was like a mortal trail of bread crumbs for him to keenly follow through the dark maze of underbrush.

Expertly, he pursued her airy brilliance through the dense foliage, her compact curves gleaming brightly under the sparkly cloak of recognition cast by the moonlight. The thin fabric of her dress delineated every taut peak and supple valley of the naturally unadorned body supposedly hidden beneath its demure covering.

Instantly, his fangs distended to their maximum girth, long and thick, spurred by an all too needy anticipation of the liquid freedom that swirled in her sunny depths as he put one foot purposefully in front of another in his rabid quest for eternal liberation.

His well-trained movements were sinuous, silent, and positively lethal as Eric slipped between aged timbers, adeptly avoiding the telltale snap of low hanging branches until his luscious quarry stopped him undead in his ancient tracks with the tiniest fleck of movements.

She didn't forestall him with tactical evasive maneuvers or cunningly outflank him by stratagem. Oh, no, his luminous belle of savory light overpowered his innate hunger for the feral hunt with just the faintest quirk of her forlorn little lips.

At once, Eric's brow furrowed in disconcerted astonishment over his unfamiliar hesitation.

He couldn't believe it; a millennia of vicious reprisal almost felled in an instant by a fucking smile that spread over him like warm honey, dripping a decadently charming radiance that was unrivaled by any other human confection.

Her captivating grin had targeted him through the camouflaging woods as if the brazenly foolish innocent knew that he was there, was fully aware of the bloody danger he wrought, and welcomed him anyway as the longing intimacy of her smile wrapped around the desolate stretches of his soul bringing the shimmering sweep of her affable nature to all of his hardened extremities.

There wasn't even a tendril of fear stalking her as Eric's budding nocturnal bloom presented him with a spectacular view of her finely gilded backside and continued along with her graveside chat like she was merely seated across a well-used kitchen table sharing newsy gossip with a half consumed mug of coffee in her hands.

It was wholly peculiar and, yet, the sanctity of the night entwined her richly intoxicating smell with her bittersweet words in a seductively compelling manner that held him curiously enthralled by the melancholy and resolute determination that simultaneously danced through her veins like the most practiced of partners as Sookie adeptly sidestepped acknowledging her dual emotions presence even in her own one-sided conversation.

Oddly enough, it was beguiling that the tantalizing beauty could blatantly lie to everyone, including herself, but she'd never be able to fool him with her deceptive gentile manners. This enticing woman was a veritable quandary, a living and breathing conundrum, but also a supremely rare vintage of human purity all packaged in a delectable sweetness that was surely any vampires candied perfection.

And, yet, she wasn't just any super naturals' for the taking he provocatively realized; Sookie was already his.

Superior satisfaction virtually purred from him because his blood had already dominantly claimed the exquisite creature; a lesson that the mangy shifter suddenly crowding his little bit of honeyed sunshine would soon learn one way or another.

.oOo.

"Thought I'd find you here," her shaggy haired boss drawled with concerned understanding, "but you shouldn't be out here alone at night especially under this moon."

"I'm just sitting with my Gran a spell," she dutifully explained trying to allay the worry that viciously swam in dark red circles in his mind, "besides nothing ever really happens in Bon Temps."

"Let me help you, Cher," Sam desperately offered as his glance slid meaningfully to the empty space where a piece of distinguished granite should have rested proclaiming the beautiful existence of a now saintly departed soul. "With your brother gone, you got no menfolk to handle things." He lowly pled, "Let me take care of this for you."

"I can't let you do that, Sam," she quickly denied with a false smile softening her blunt refusal. "You're my friend and it might change things between us," she faltered not wanting to hurt her long-time confidante but also knowing that he did, in fact, want those very changes she had strived so hard to avoid in the past. And, now, the barmaid certainly wasn't interested in a deeper kind of intimacy with her employer after the steamy shower of perfection she'd taken earlier today.

"But as my boss," she steadily continued forcing that distracting recollection from her mind, "I'd sure appreciate any shifts that come available when someone calls off."

"Sure, cher," Sam gave her a tight smile that could have probably doubled as a grimace of pain.

Sookie knew that it wasn't just the full moon wreaking havoc on his peace and calm but she didn't dare tip the scales of the precarious balance they'd barely been managing of late by mentioning anything else on the subject. Instead, she let the nocturnal lullaby of nature gently sooth the agitated silence between them as her boss tried to regain control over his wandering carnal thoughts.

Once the tense moment had passed, Sam asked like a gentleman should, "Walk you back?"

"Sure," she conceded not wanting to alter the delicate equilibrium they had just achieved again so soon. However, as Sam's feral growl unexpectedly snarled over her flesh; Sookie wondered if they'd ever be on amicable footing again as her palm connected sharply with the hairy cheek of the man who'd just tried to steal a very proprietary kiss.

.oOo.

That slap had been haughty, indignant, utterly self-righteous and hot as fuck.

His human was as delicate as a lacy bloom, her gentle swells as supple as a fresh picked petal, her scent headier than the pungent aroma of a hothouse bed but when you got sweet little Sookie riled, hell, the spirit of the South rose again with the fiery steel forged in the sexy curve of her backbone.

He'd almost felt sorry for the dirty shifter. Almost.

That is, he might have if Eric hadn't witnessed the two natured mutt lean in for a surreptitious sniff of a treat that didn't belong to him. Easily, he'd recognized the possessive fury that had fueled the dog's futile actions but the shifter was contemptible in the shallow gene pool sort of way if the canine truly thought his humping kiss could override the alpha claim of Eric's bloody scent.

Yes, thwarting the scraggly shifter was a nice perk but the real prize of the night was the coveted knowledge that Sookie was his for the taking whenever he desired. When the savage whim to sink fang deep into her virginal form and gorge on the juicy red nectar of her blood struck him again, Eric could salaciously suckle until she was parchment dry to the marrow of her fine bones and no supernatural could deny him that right.

The notion made the Sheriff's bloodless evening almost replete as he prowled the woods and clearing near her home inhaling her unique scent that still glistened like morning dew over nearly every scrap of the tree lined landscape she'd fled along. With each divine whiff, Eric sternly reminded himself that he'd only granted his incomparable delicacy a short reprieve so that she could see fit to properly memorialize her kin.

After all, that honorable pursuit was something that the once human warrior in him could relate to after a millennium of guilt had lashed across his vampire constitution until he'd been able to avenge his family's brutal destruction.

Yes, respecting the need for proper burial customs to be completed was a justifiable delay to his current way of thinking because it hadn't been his bottle of sunshine's fault that she'd unknowingly swallowed a sip of what had become barely diluted torture for him.

Besides, Eric imperiously decided; his self-imposed fortitude could use a bit of reinforcement and withstanding the incessant urge to devour the Southern delicacy that sashayed a potpourri of her pungent emotions through him would make for one thoroughly exacting test of his willpower.


End file.
